


Fine.

by babykpats



Series: Mindfuck [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-19 01:01:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22569415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babykpats/pseuds/babykpats
Summary: Ian and Mickey have made a home for themselves but what if Ian's brain decides to fuck with it?~Mindfuck is a series with each story having to do with a different mental condition.This one is Intermittent Explosive Disorder.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: Mindfuck [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/439213
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	Fine.

**Author's Note:**

> After 10 million years, I'm back.

Mickey was just able to manhandle Ian into the car before Ian reached the climax of his tyraid. He closed the passenger door, took a quick breath to center himself, then walked over to take his place behind the wheel.

Mickey should have seen this coming. 

During the years they've spent with together, Mickey has curated a list of Ian's triggers, chronologically listed depending on the magnitude of the resulting attack. It goes from petty sarcasm to full blown violent episodes.

The Gallagher clan, and the tangential Ball clan, were all fully briefed prior to Ian and Mickey's arrival. But all briefings flew out the window once the alcohol hit their bloodstreams.

All it took was one word and Ian's switch was flipped. All it took was for Kev to offhandedly call Ian crazy before Ian took the liberty of proving Kev right.

Amidst Ian's current yells, Mickey turned the ignition and started the drive home.

IED was what it was. Intermittent explosive disorder.

It was never an issue before. Hell, Mickey had worse outbursts than Ian. But the shit that Mickey got pissed at were reasonable, relatively speaking. Pedophiles pissed him off, homophobes, assholes, people hitting on Ian, those triggers were all based on something relatively justifiable. 

With Ian though, shit like the sunrise hitting his face the wrong way could send him on an hour long yelling spree about how Mickey was too incompetent to foresee how the angle of the sunrise might affect Ian's waking up and how Mickey was supposed to have left the curtains closed.

For the most part, Mickey was able to sweep it under the rug, especially when you take the make-up sex into account. He just charged it to the fact that Ian's a passionate person and certain things affect him differently than it does mere mortals. 

But after Ian threatened to smash a plate over Mickey's head because Mickey left suds on some of the dishes, he knew something was wrong. 

The problem was, they couldn't do fuck-all about it. 

Mickey and Ian have worked so hard building a little burrow of a home at the edge of the Southside. It was a small house but they busted their asses for the downpayment, and they continue to bust their asses to make sure money was being put down for it every month.

That left very very very little money for things like doctors and psychologists.

But, after the aforementioned soap-sud-on-dish incident, it was the fact that Ian was possibly endangering Mickey's life that pushed Ian into the therapist's office.

It was a Sunday morning that found them crunching numbers, trying to find any single penny they could spare that could go towards getting Ian to a doctor.

"Fuck." Ian mumbled miserably after finding out they were still short.

"I can get the money." Mickey said. He had an arsenal of illegal money-making schemes up his sleeve. Ian always said no but maybe this time, taking into account the circumstances, he'll reconsider.

"No."

"But-"

"No." Ian said, louder this time. "What if you get caught? Get thrown in jail?"

Mickey chuckled. "Knowing your temper? And without me to hold you back? You'll be thrown in right after me." Mickey's chuckles slowly died once he realized what he just said. References to Ian's penchant for outbursts usually sent Ian flying off the walls.

Mickey was frozen solid waiting for the reprecussions of his words.

And Ian watched him with a sinking gut. Mickey can't even joke around him anymore. Ian sighed. "We can move back in with the family."

"No!" Mickey yelled. "Fuck no!" He turned to Ian. "C'mon Ian. I can come up with the money. It ain't much. I'll stop when we got enough for one appointment. We can't move back in!"

Ian sighed. "Fine."

After one week of moving drugs, guns and whatever Mickey could get his hands on but still fly outside of his dad's radar, they booked an appointment with a doctor.

Mickey felt an intense and overwhelming relief once they were able to pinpoint what it was. For the longest time, Mickey was harboring self-esteem issues with a sprinkling of low self-worth.

Ian's diagnosis meant that Ian's explosions weren't fueled by hatred of Mickey. It was some shit in Ian's internal operating system that led to his behavior.

The relief was shortlived when it dawned on Mickey that it will take more than a diagnosis for the actual yelling to stop.

There were meds, therapy sessions, half-ass visits to the gym to try and moderate Ian's aggression.

But it wasn't sustainable. They were still dirt poor and like all other mental conditions, Ian's was unpredictable. 

Like right now, with Ian yelling Mickey's right ear off because Kev called him crazy.

Mickey maneuvered the car into the spot in front of their house before killing the engine.

"Are you even listening to me, Mickey?!" Ian yelled.

Mickey sighed, trying his best to tamp down his urge to lash out. Instead, he sighed and waited patiently.

"I've been speaking for over an hour and you weren't even listening!" Ian yelled. "I should've just taken the car home and left you there since you don't give a shit either way!"

Mickey kept quiet.

"I'm done with you. Don't even think about going into the house." Ian yelled, left the car and slammed the two doors that were separating the passenger seat to the inside of the house.

Mickey reclined his seat and waited. 

Maybe twenty more minutes. 

Usually these episodes don't go over an hour but since Mickey didn't give Ian the satisfaction of seeing Mickey affected by his words, it might take a bit longer.

Also, twenty more minutes to give Mickey a chance to decompress.

It would have been so much better if the things that Ian yelled were utter lies, but they weren't - not to Mickey. Whenever Ian got like this, he had this devious desire to hit Mickey where it hurt. Ian knew where all Mickey's insercurities lie.

Once the 20 minute decompression period ran out, Mickey exited the car and made his way into the house. He let out a deep sigh when he saw Ian passed out on the living room sofa. This always happens. Ian's episodes usually drained him, causing him to take unplanned naps anytime, anywhere.

~

Ian woke up sweaty and exhausted, laying on their bed. He turned to see Mickey's side empty and frowned. He got up and padded out of their bedroom. "Mick?" Ian said quietly, dread already bubbling at the bottom of his stomach, this was all too familiar. "Mickey?"

He checked out all the other rooms in hopes that Mickey was just cleaning the house or something. When they were all empty, Ian let out a resigned sigh and moved towards the back door.

There he found Mickey who was too busy crying his eyes out that he didn't even hear Ian approaching him.

"Mickey." Ian said, guilt eating him up from the inside out. "Mick."

Mickey immediately straightened up, kept his head down and cleared his throat. "What are you doing up?"

Ian let out a dejected sigh and took his place beside Mickey. "You know I never mean the stuff I say when it happens, right?"

Mickey nodded. No longer feeling the same wave of relief he used to feel whenever Ian worked through an episode. He shrugged. "It's fine." Mickey shrugged again while trying to inconspicuously dry his cheeks. "You didn't say anything that I haven't told myself before." He added quietly, seemingly talking only to himself.

Ian sighed, searching his brain for a version of 'sorry' that he hasn't used yet. "I don't know how to fix this, Mickey."

Mickey scoffed. "Nothing to fix."

Ian looked at Mickey, hating himself, hating the symbiote sharing his body, popping out to tear Mickey apart. "When it happens it's like I don't have the reins anymore. Things just fly out of my mouth and this... this evil desire to hurt people gets activated inside me." Ian explained frustratedly.

Mickey shrugged. "Well, good job then. Damage done."

Ian's shoulders fell. "It doesn't mean I want it to happen."

Mickey shook his head. "I know I'm a fuck up. I know that I don't deserve a lot of the shit I have. I know I always mess shit up. I mean, I don't even know what you're apologizing for. You just told me the truth." Mickey shrugged.

"Mick." Ian's voice was wet, same as his eyes.

Mickey sighed, part of him wanted to shrug it all off. It wasn't technically Ian's fault after all. But another darker, more evil part of Mickey wanted Ian to feel bad and suffer the way Mickey has. These two sides of him, fighting for dominance, caused all his replies to have a weird petty-passive-aggressive mix to them. 

"It's fine. Another explosion done, millions more to go." Mickey got up from the floor and dusted his butt. He held a hand out to help Ian up but Ian didn't take it.

The guilt inside of Ian started turning into something else. Something he knew he was gonna hate himself for. "What if- maybe I should- maybe this isn't good anymore." Ian stammered.

"What?" Mickey frowned.

"Maybe I should just leave. You. Leave you. And just, not be here." Ian said, hands flying to cover his mouth when an ugly sob escaped without his consent.

Mickey frowned, mentally calculating the time that has passed between Ian's last episode and that very moment. Was this some evil, extended edition to Ian's last explosion? "Did I do something wrong?" Mickey's blood went cold when he realized that he had no idea what Ian was gonna reply to that.

Ian turned to look at Mickey in the face, his own covered in tears and snot. "I'm not good for you Mick. I'm not good for anyone. I think I should just leave and figure shit out in my head."

"How's that different from figuring shit out here with me?" Mickey asked.

Ian chuckled dryly. "I'm destroying you, Mick."

Mickey wiped his tears and tried, with all his might, to conjure a smile in an effort to lighten up the situation. "I've lived through worse."

Ian scoffed. "You mean Terry? You're comparing me to Terry? You get how that helps my point, right?"

Mickey sighed. "Okay, fine."

"Fine?" Ian froze. "What fine?"

Mickey let out a resigned sigh. "Shrink, hospital, meds, whatever it takes, let's do it. We move back in with your family, save whatever we have left, sell the furniture, TV, the car, everything." 

"Mick."

"I ain't going anywhere, Gallagher." Mickey mumbled. "Sucks like hell to have to move back into that fucking sardine can of a house, start from literally nothing, but if that's what it takes, then that's what it takes."

"I can't let you give everything up for me." Ian said, voice soft and quivering.

"I ain't doing it for you. I'm doing it for me. I can't even start to think about how I'm supposed to carry on with my fucking life without you so if this is what I gotta do to keep you in it then fuck it." Mickey sighed, brows furrowed.

Ian nodded, head a spiral of pros and cons, heart a tornado of love and guilt. Ian sighed. "Okay, fine."

**Author's Note:**

> I def wanna continue Free Samples and add more stories to the Ian Mickey Trevor series. Let's see how it goes!


End file.
